As The Flame Burns In Shadow
by the snow shadow
Summary: It is the thirty-third millennium, a time of great change in the Imperium. The Mythril Lords Chapter grow apart from the empire that they love as the sin of their past comes to haunt them. They look to find a path which might let them find their purpose and save them from the darkness that returns and yet perhaps it is more than just a path they will find, but a spark as well.
1. prologue

The Mythril Lords, children of unknowable power, their name chosen from an ancient terran text. They were born after the second founding in secret, the father hidden from the Imperium at large and in time forgotten by many, but those who held them close. For twenty twos centuries they scoured the Imperium searching for worlds to reclaim and to correct the sins of their past.

They took a single flame from Terra, itself, on the day that they were born. The last true spark of the crusades, a tiny shard of The Emperor's soul made manifest. His dreams a gift to them. They wreathed themselves in it to rise from the ash. They have borne the single flame for hundreds of years to world after world as they purged those that would deny the imperial truth that the emperor once spread.

Now though, it is the thirty third millennium, the Imperium is in a state of flux. The Astropath Wars and the Third Black Crusade has ended at great cost to the Imperium. The Adeptus Ministorum is growing in power as the Imperium falls into faith. They search for a larger purpose in an galaxy that slowly beginning to reject them, even as old darkness is born a new. It is a time of great change and some are foolish enough to have hope.

* * *

Khonsu moved down the open halls of Requiem Star, the flagship of the Mythril Lords fleet. It served as as their fortress monastery and the greatest of all their ships. He found himself in the bowels of the ship, where the oldest devices were stored and sect of their Chapter practiced their arts. He could feel a stirring in his mind and soul. He had felt it for some time now, all the Chapter had, yet with each step he could feel it growing louder, growing stronger than ever before. He focused his mind inward assuring his mental defenses against such incursion and yet he could not push away all that assailed him. Fury and sorrow flooded over him and grinded at his mind.

The hallway soon enough opened upon into a large if mostly empty chamber. A vast gate stood in front of him in the chamber. Great and majestic imagery was embossed in the mix of adamantium. It showed the story of their Chapters birth and the two twin brothers that once led their Chapter and then their fall to save the Chapter. There are two reasons why man built such walls and gate. The first was common, it was to protect those that were inside. The next is all the more rare and terrifying, to contain something within it to protect all from it. This gate was the later.

There stood fifteen of his brothers in front of the grand gate. The fifteen looked to their new arrival and bowed. They were the brothers of the elder slumber, those who alone had the power to control that which rested beyond the great gate. Each and every one of them slowly bowed and slid out of the way. The gates slowly began to slide open with the quiet hiss of pneumatics, the silent sound and pressure pushing against his mind turned deafening. It opened only enough to allow one to enter.

Inside the chamber stood one man. The Chapter Master Iah, known as the Moon Guard. He stood to the side of the first of the great coffins in the tomb. It was a shrine of sorts for it held the body of their first Chapter Master, Nyarlathotep. The second stood at the end of the chamber, its grand body held in stasis and chains, though they could do little. It was a dreadnought, Azoth The Sleeping One.

Without a word, Khonsu passed into the chamber having to fight the screams barreling against him each step. The great doors sealing behind him, as he finally made his way inside. The pneumatic and tech arcana locks slowly moving into place. It left the two figures trapped in another world, safe from prying eyes and ears. The chamber was a storm of invisible energies

"The ancient one is crying out for his brother, trying to break free." Iah reflected aloud as he looked over the the large sarcophagus shines where the ancient ones rested. He could not bring his eyes away from them. He seemed to be listening to the world even in the quite. The psychic roar from the room was his music.

"Who awake him." Khonsu asked. He was unsure why his lord had brought him here. It was not that he minded though. Iah had once been his mentor and his friend, his ascension to Chapter Master all those years ago had not changed that fact.

"He did himself, he still slumbers physically." Master Iah clarified for his brother. "That is the best we have been able to keep him. His mind screams for answers and his rage is powerful" He shook in his his robes as if to give emphasis and yet Khonsu knew. Much of the Chapter could feel it at this time.

"Can the sons of the slumber not bring him about to sleep once again." The ancient one was not meant to be awoken unless in war, even then such act was rare. Azoth's furry was a struggle to constrain, although worlds were know to fall under it. Khonsu had once in his life been either lucky or misfortunate enough to bear witness to the warrior. The captain had for that singular moment know pity for those enemies that stood before the venerable one.

"I fear he no longer sees their father visage in them." Iah spoke moving away from the tomb of Nyarlathotep and close to his captain. He brought a firm hand onto the brothers shoulder. His dour expression becoming more carefree and jovial, for even the briefest moment he had reassurance. "It is good to see you again my friend, it has been far too long"

The captain of the third was frowning. If the sons of Nyarlathotep could not put to rest Azoth, then the great destroyer may never sleep again. He could feel it even now. The screams of a lost soul looking for his brother, never to return. Taking his thoughts from the matter, Khonsu looked to his former mentor and nodded with the smallest of smiled "It has, the war of Narizem. The rank of Chapter Master still worried you"

"As the rank of captain did you." Iah retorted at the thought, although he could not have truthfully denied such statements "You had the simpler of the two tasks." Iah laughed at the thought. His thoughts though were elsewhere despite this bound and show of camaraderie, Khonsu could feel it even without prying into his mentor's mind.

"Why is it that you have brought me here." Khonsu asked having a feeling that this was more than just a meeting between old friends, although he did appreciate the gesture, if he was of greater need than he would hear it.

Knowing that he had no choice if he wanted to continue, Iah began, "because I fear, a word I do not use lightly, we have dark days to come and this is but a sign."

"Our kind are not unaccustomed to such" Khonsu pointed out "we have see the blade of death many a time, escaping it each time." They have endured and they would always endure. It was their nature, in his belief.

"And we were left broken again and again." Iah looked to his captain with a grim look. There was a question in his eyes, and asking for reassurance

"And yet we endure." Khonsu nodded at his Chapter Master, he was right yet they there was more to it than that. "We must endure if we are to see the day man knows peace.."

"The seers have been able to pierce the veil of the great sea." Iah said getting to the truth of the matter. "They see a world we once set foot upon, and the bloody shadows that mean to consume it."

"What world?" Khonsu asked, such an omen was ill and yet in these times many a world once saved were falling to new tyrannies. It was not uncommon even if it was an annoyance.

With a low sigh, the Chapter Master admitted, "We can not recall its name, but the seers say it burns in our blood."

"What would could we have forgotten" The Chapter' s scribes were meticulous since the date of their birth. They could not forget the past unless they were doomed to repeat it, thus was the first lesson every Mythril Lord was taught. It was the most important lesson that Khonsu think of.

Iah only looked to the dreadnought that stood behind them"A world before the sun was swallowed by Apophis." Khonsu nodded calmly though it was clear from his features that his was a surprise to him. A time from before the great heresy. Before the galaxy burned. "I want the third company to investigate, I trust that you are capable of finding the truth that escapes us." Iah said turning to the door of the tomb, with a wave of his hand the door's once again began to open, the brothers of the slumber undoing the locks from beyond. "We must let the brothers continue though, they are the only ones keeping him in the state he is now." Iah did his best to change his disposition, feigning a jovial nature, "Now come, I would see a feast in honor of our Chapter's gathering."

The third captain nodded as knew that his mentor wanted no more questions on the matter, and would answer nothing. He simply followed his Chapter Master. The two brothers strode from chamber as the gates open quitely. The Brothers of the Slumber bowing in quiet reflection as they passed the two others Lords. It was an honored tasked among the Chapter and yet, Khonsu was still would not wish their job.

Khonsu turned back right as the doors began to close once again and watched as a chapter of the Mythril Lords was drawing to a close, an era drawing to an end. He could only wonder what could come next. "May the light of the flame guide us all."

* * *

What a 40k story not in the 40k. why yes? It is the story of one of the first characters I ever created for my Chapter and one of the key features of my Chapter which takes one singular event in 40k history that was never expanded up and uses it to make the universe bigger.

Check out my other works on fiction press, particularly my main story: Trials of the Witch Hunter

I can not promise I will release often as original works go above fanfics but I am on a writers block with orginal for now


	2. ch1: Squireship

He could feel them, he did not know how yet but he could. He felt there four of them around him. He could feel the beating of their hearts, the slow and syncopated pumping of their blood in their veins. It was slow and smooth, their hearts beating no faster than a one shaking off the vestiges of sleep. They were calm. He knew that they wanted something, whoever these brigands were they would not have taken a noble like him without wanting something.

His skin was clammy with sweat that turned the air about him into a winter's chill that stung the skin. His heart beating quickly from the excitement and shock of being grabbed, hooded, and choked into unconsciousness. He could not panic though, instead, he tried to focus on what he could find about his environment.

He was a simple noble's son. Blessed by Aengus when he was born to the River Boyne, some would say he would grow to have the looks of the god. His skin a light tan, his curly hair a rich warm deep chestnut with eyes as hazel green that some would say glowed in the darkness. His visage was smooth and elfin, the outcome of thousands of years of selective and fine breeding. He had a smooth suppleness to his face yet the tell tale sign of what would one day be sharp and strong features one day.

"Who are you" One of the many souls around him spoke. It was cold and hard, encompassing and powerful as if a dozen voices spoke around him and about him. It was the voice of a warrior, little suiting for a brigand. It was also painfully familiar, that only nagged at him more given the situation.

Another family or even another clann perhaps. War would come to Gwydion if it were another clan that dared this. Blood would spill from the shore to forest, plans to mountains, and ravines to valleys. "I am Weylyn, the third blood of Wyline of the Urshè family." He muttered, he wished he could look around to see but a cloth of wet wool was pulled tight and wrapped around his head. It made it had enough to keep his eyes open or breath. His hands and feet were both tied behind his back in a hogtie. He knew not who held him, but he knew the honor he must show. "In emerald grove, we stand and by Urshè blood and blade we sing for Chulainn."

"The Urshè stand among the knight and families of the north, do they not?" The voice in front of him muttered the question in response to his answer.

"We stand with the unbreaking north " Weylyn muttered an oath to the land in an agreement. The idea of what was happening was beginning to dawn on him. This was more than just a clan fued, this was between the houses

"Land of little cattle and many whores." Was the response that he got from a soul off to his left, it put the child's teeth on edge. Yet he tightly clenched his mouth shut. Young though he might be, he was taught well to know when to speak and to know when it was wise not to.

"Do you have a little whore yourself, little brat. Your ilk always marries children off, like human breeding sows" The voice behind him said placing a boot upon Weylyn's back. The man shoved the child forward, falling onto his face. His head hitting a wooden floor. His ears and head ringing for several moments, a low groan spilling from his lips before he was grabbed by his collar and pulled back up onto his knees. The insult hurt all the more as it had not been but a full change of the moon since he had first learned the girl's name. Branwen-Aine of the Ler family, though he thought her sister Emer the prettier.

"She probably is a better fighter than him, he could barely throw a punch and those he did were softer than silks, a proper milk drinker, the little cow"The voice in front of him seemed annoyed at the fact he could no longer clearly speak with his target.

Weylyn felt a cold chill press against his throat. A thin, weak gasp escaping his throat. A chill that made his blood turn to ice as his adam's apple passed slowly against the feeling.

It was the touch of steel kissed by moist air. "Now, I do not want to hurt you but if I must then I will." Large hands placed gripped his chins from behind the bag, "you sweet child have much to offer us, and we have your life to offer you," The blade gently caressed Weylyn's neck going up and down, up and down, he did not know he was bleeding until he felt it began pool on his shirt and the reek of copper hit his nose.

"Now little one, we know knights and lords of your land are preparing to marching out." The silky voice to his left spoke with an audible smirk. "The most peculiar questions though is where are they going.. and why."

Weylyn knew what they spoke of. The families were planning a hunt in honor of the newest squires to the order. It was a hunt being conducted by Lord Rabe, he went on one yearly but many some were saying this one would be the largest he had ever conducted. It was a large and grand procession that pushed into the wilderness to hunt and bring forth a feast for all the people to partake in. The thought of the succulent meats that would come would have filled him with a giddiness in any other situation. All he could ask though is, "if you don't know you shouldn't." They were not of the north, that was clear enough and more than a reason not to tell them.

Weylyn felt one of the men deliver a quick kick to his side. Pain spiking through him as his body screamed at him his breath was pushed from him. "don't be funny you little northern brat, did you whore mother ever teach you to respect our betters." The only response was a low wheezing sound as the childly greedily fought for fresh air. The flax sack about his hair though turned the air musty and hot, uncomfortably filling in his lungs.

The voice in front of him let out a long sigh, whether it a disappointment or annoyance to either Weylyn or the other man, it was impossible to truly tell. He composed himself after a few moments and then spoke to Weylyn again. "I am sorry, my companion seems to forget you are a child still. I can promise you tell us what they are planning to due and you will be we can prevent any more bloodshed than must come. It is preferable." The voice said though it did not actually sound that true. "If our blades must be warmed by your blood than it must be. If you tell us though you can spend the next few days living decently and then getting to return home is more than can be said for the others. A fair deal."

Weylyn's eyes widen as slowly, despite his inability to see, as the revelation of intent slowly began to dawn on the young boy. They were planning on setting a trap for the nobles. This horrified and revolted in a way he did not fully understand himself. Most of all though it scared him. "I won't." He muttered defiantly towards the man.

"I do not believe you understand child, you do not have of a chose." the man in front of him explained with a venomous air, "You will give us want we want or we shall make you tell us.

"I won't!" Weylyn said louder, His voice cracking as he spoke, leaving much to be desired in his tone. It made him seem weaker than he already was in this situation. he would not let these men hurt those he called friend and families. He tried to focus on that though, for the thought of the rebuttal to come terrified him more than he could voice. For a moment, he was grateful for the hood about his face.

"It is not a choice child," The man in front of Weylyn, hefted up the boy. Weylyn's feet slipping away from the ground. The man brought him so close that Weylyn could feel the man's breath. He could smell the reek of ale and grease that irritated a miasma of toxin that sicked the stomach and stung the nose.

Large fingers slowly began to wrap around Weylyn's neck, a slow building pressure chosed away Weylyn's breath. "do you have any family, I can promise you they will be spared if you tell us what we want. They will not face the same fate as the others." His calm and regal voice turned dark and fiery, "or I can dash their heads against the stone floors and leave their souls to the wrights and let you live long enough to know it is your fault"

The man slowly loosened his grip upon Weylyn's neck as he respected a response, but Weylyn stayed silents focusing on his breathing. The man simply dropped Weylyn back onto the floor and sighed, "Show the child what it means to show obstinate to us."

"Sir…" One of the other three men began before he was cut off.

"I said show him what it means to be obstinate to us." His tone bearing a threat to those who seemed to be under his command as well as their captor. Weylyn did not know what was going to come next until they began to strike him, again and again as he lay upon the ground. The metal heel of a boot making contact with his back. He tied to roll with the strike but the toes on another kicked the side of his head, leaving his ears ringing.

Weylyn was unsure how long it lasted, yet by the time it was over he hurt in ways he could not describe. Blow after blow rained down upon him for a time period that seems to drag on forever as a swift punt hit his gut making him feel as if he were about to seemed to know just where to kick and how hard, to deliver pain but not kill him due to his size. Blood frothed up into his mouth, he tried to spit it out but it just pooled soaked into the flax about his head.

"Now I am going to give you one last chance, where are they going?" The cold knife pressing against his throat, though not too hard, just enough that it would cut him due to a slip of the hand.

"Bugger off…" Weylyn managed through the pools of bile and blood, a fit of coughs stripping his tired and bloody throat, raw.

"You are either famously stubborn or loyal, perhaps you simply know honor. The true sign of a knight of the north." Before Weylyn even had time to contemplate such words, he felt the knife at his throat flick upward and beneath the bindings that tied the sac to his head. A quick tug and the rope began to snap and fray. The bounds fell away and the bag was yanked from his head. Weylyn gasped as the cold air smashed against his hot and flushed face. The air tastes so sweet without the musty taint of flax. It reminded him of the purest spring waters in the moment. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and savor every last breath of it but he could not.

Weylyn could not help but look up slow at his captors. Perhaps he knew from the moment he heard the man's voice or the piece just fell into place, but he knew the man. They had met on several occasions, each had been on more pleasant circumstances.

He was Sir Cairbre Ler stood on the balls of his heels. He was a tall man of broad shoulders and large flame. His hair long and black tied back behind his head. His eyes were dark blue sea waters and cold as ice. There was a primal fury that stayed just below the surface, and it was abundantly clear that he would never have needed the knife to go through with his threats. He was a fine knight if all stories were to be true. Looking around, Weylyn looked for the identities of the other companions.

Weylyn looked upon the other knights, while he did not know all the men, he knew their heraldrys. They all wore boiled and dyed brown and green leathers. Tabards holding their signals hung loosely onto their chests. The crashing waves in blue and white of Ler. The strong, proud bear in black and green of Artio. The red and bruised purple hammer of MacIntyre. The black and white shield with crossed blades of Alasdair

What stunned Weylyn the most, was the fact that they were all oath bound knights of the Red Branch. He knew many of their faces even if he had never hear them speak. "Tr… tra.. traitor." Weylyn managed to mutter through his ichor building in his throat. A pile of phlegm and blood making it hard to breathe,

Sir Ler only smiled at the thought, "no dear boy, I am merely a finder or extractor of loyalty in a trial. One in which you have shown the utmost loyalty." The words seemed almost foreign to Weylyn. They would not process for some time, his head swimming with pain and confusion..

"You are rather quick to trust him, most trials take longer." Muttered a lord of the Alasdair family with a raised eyebrow. While the other two lords stayed silent their looked saying more than any words clouds have to voice similar thoughts.

"And some are shorter with very few involve such beatings." Sir Ler reminded them with a greedy little smirk to the lords within that very chamber.

"Is it due to you connection to him that you take ease upon him" Alsdair responded with accusation that was on the lips of every noble men in the room who knew of the two families connections.

"perhaps... I do wish for my daughter to have a have a face she can be fond of." The knight admitted without a second thought, "but I trust a stubborn nature to honor his bounds. Are any of you in some form of disagreement" Sir Ler looked about to his comrades. The right side his lips twitching into a small smirk, that faded just as fast, at their lack of reprisals or objectives. He nodded and helped position Weylen into a kneeling position. He took a single sack of water from his side and handed it to the boy.

Taking it wearily at first, Weylyn greedily began to drown himself in the drink. It was for a wondrous moment all that he concerned himself with. He kept his kept his eyes trained on those around them. "Why did you do this."

"The trainers believe you are ready to take up your squireship." The son of the Alasdair family said looking to the child. He reached into his breast pocket and with a flick of the wrist threw a cloth to his charge, "Wipe the blood from your mouth, boy. It is disgraceful." Weylyn caught the silken cloth and did as he was told.

The knight of the MacIntyre family continued where his companion stopped, "The Brotherhood must assure that you are loyal to your commitments though. Any man may be of a body of iron, few have a will of such. We see what one is willing to give to keep safe the north and the secrets of the order. It would seem that you have take enough for Sir Ler and if you are willing, you can take an oath."

"Lord Artio would you please commence the rights, you know them better than any other," Calibre asked of his fellow knight. The oldest of the knights looked up to Calibre ler and only nodded. He coughed briefly to clear his throat and pushed himself up to his feet, for he alone had been sitting.

The four warriors drew their blades of their hilts with a metallic hiss, followed by a terrible cling as the blade tips fell to the ground in a salute. "Do you Weylyn Urshè accept the bounds of the northern knights. Do you take on the title and the responsibilities of a squire in service to your brothers" Artio began speaking for the first time since they had removed Weylyn's hood.

Weylyn managed to lift up his head and said, "I.." He felt his tongue catch in his mouth, unable to feel as if this was real, "do."

"Do you consign your blood and life to the defense of the northern lands. To die for our land if your lord or duty commands." Artio continued on with the oath. "Do you swear to hold the honor of our order until the gods or their angels come to claim you."

"I do." Weylyn replied, trying to push a shade more confidence than when he spoke at first.

With that, the knights of the Red Branch lifted their blades and rested their tips upon his back. All four of the knights declared, "Welcome to the order of the Red Branch, squire Weylyn Urshè."

* * *

now the story truly begins with our young noble boy, who this story is as much about as the chapter itself. For Weylyn plays a great deal of importance in the chapter even though he begins as a noble boy on the world of Gwydion.

Check out my other works on fiction press, particularly my main story: Trials of the Witch Hunter


	3. Ch2: Prayers and knifes

Weylyn kneeled in his family's small chapel as he reflected on the events that were only but a week ago. His right hand still felt somewhat numb and several phantom pains in his chest still haunted him to this moment. He did his best to keep his mind off of that thought He did this by turning his thoughts to his prayers and praise to the patrons of his house and the north made sure to send his prayers to the great huntress, asking for a good hunt as he was to accompany lord Rabe's hunt with his father, brothers, and Sir Ler.

He turned his prayers to Aengus, his personal patron for protection and a happy life. Weylyn had been born under the stars of the winged god and even now he could feel the spirit watching him. He lit a little branch of hazel wood, waiting for it to crackle and twist, before muttering lowly " Aengus…men call you the Young. For you are the sunlight in the heart, the moonlight in the mind. You are beyond joy and tears. you who will make men immortal for your palace opens into the Gardens of the Sun and there are the fire-fountains which quench the heart's desire in rapture" He sent off the simplified version of one of Aengus's prayer.

Among the old gods though he brought his prayers to the the red angels and the golden one. The walls on the side of the temple showed two legions of angels march across the world to bring the great peace. Great warriors taller than any man, dwarfed only by their two masters. One a giant of copper skin and rainbow eyes. The other was the most majestic of beings with great wings and golden hair. Some said that the angels were just servants of gods though and that they should turn their faith to the old gods. The gods of their fathers and their fathers' fathers and so on since man had fallen from the stars themselves. The walls showed the angels ending the great war between the clanns with warrior few man could strike, with blessed armored no blade could pierce directly. They had come down from the sky generations ago and told the people of their lord beyond the stars. A golden lord who ruled every star that they could see those they could not.

The story went that they would come again whenever their world was in peril and they would come to take their people to a land of paradise when the day of the ending would come to be. He had always loved the old stories of both gods, though he himself was blessed by the old ones. He never understood why others could not accept having both gods old and new, for his family was one of the few that did.

Weylyn stopped his prayers after a moment. He felt someone enter the room behind him. He did not hear someone come in, nor see them, but he felt them enter the chamber. He heard a muttering in his head and the feeling of another heartbeat.

He rose up from where he prayed, slowly reaching for the blade that rested against his thigh, and turned back to the doors of the chapel to see one of his family servants. The dagger in his hand brandished for defense, it had been a precaution since his trial, one which in this case was unneeded. The simple man that had arrived named Osterwick, hollow of face and thin of frame. He was the best of men noble or peasant that Weylyn knew.

Osterwick stood quietly in the doorway, stopping in his step. "I am sorry my young sir, I had tried not to disturb you. Your lord father though wishes to see you." He found himself slightly surprised as that his charge had turned. He had done his best to remain quiet.

Weylyn lowered the blade, "Sorry sir." He smiled mischievously despite himself, he felt his face a slight bit inflamed from embarrassment. "I was not expecting anyone, I thought you might have been an intruder.

Osterwick only nodded at his young ward accepting the apology and the reason. "Your father sent me to get you for he wishes," it was only then that the man gave serious thought to the blade that in his wards hand. "Now put that damn thing away boy before you cut yourself." The elder snapped at his own young ward.

After a small chuckle, "I am to be a knight Osterwick, I am going to need to carry more than this one day." Weylyn pointed out, the rosy-cheeked boy smiled at his elder as he swung it about pretending it was a larger blade. It was nothing more than a hunters knife. It was a cheap one at that, one which even normal young huntsmen would be able to purchase with only minor haggling.

The old man began to walk forward to his ward, his movements old and yet still spry. "And until the day you have got a messer in your little hands you are my responsibility," Osterwick pointed out as he moved through the temple. "Now you will put that thing away or I shall knock it from your hands and teach you a few other lessons while I am at it." He smiled as, despite his harsh words, he was joking.

"And if I don't" Weylyn challenged the elder. It was not a disrespectful challenge but a playful one. The boy raised up his blade and pointed it at his warden in jest.

Osterwick stopped for only a moment, a fatherly grin His mentor and watcher took up his cane and turned it upward as if to imitate a blade. "Than I would have to to teach you what happens if you do not listen to your elders." With a glint in his eyes the man thrust forward. It would have stabbed into Weylyn's shoulder, though he side stepped blow by an inch, the stand in sword This began the days lesson of swordsmanship, or at least knife play.

The boy slashed at Osterwick. His cane though snapped at against the blade before it even got to the elderly man The ironwood stave clanged against the steel of the knife, never making it any closer to its target. "poor of form." Osterwick shook his head at the thought and pushed the blade away, taking a step back. "Again and try harder."

Weylyn slid back,flipping the blade backwards in his hand, resting his thumb were the blade had been a moment ago. He slowly began to walk around his mentor, knowing he was at the disadvantage due to the cane's length, he had to strike at the right moment. A silence passed over them for a single short minutes before that moment came, as his mentor took a step back, he faltered at a loose stone. Weylyn dove into his enemy, bringing his arm to slash horizontally. He did not see that it was a trick until wood and iron snapped together.

He did not let this stop him though, Weylyn began to thrust and cut at his mentor aiming for the chest. When the blade and stave made contact, he used the momentum to push towards his mentors hand. His blade being bound back again and again with his every strike, only managing to catch the threading of the man's overcoat. Weylyn did his best to keep close, knowing that this were he had the advantage, yet as he stepped back for another lung he felt his hand go aflame.

Osterwisk rapped the boys hand, the pain searing, in a moment the blade had been knocked from Weylyn with ease. The simple blade skidding across the stone of the sanctuary and stopping against the wall. The warden wrapped his arm around the boy's arm, forcing into a twisted angle. He wasted no time in delivering a quick palm thrust to Weylyn's chin, wrapping his fingers around the boy face and thrusting Weylyn's head down.

Weylyn did not know he was falling until he felt Osterwick grab his collar and had his head from being dashed across the stone. "You will have to get better than that if you are to be more than a squire." The elder laughed as he pulled up his young ward.

"That is why I have you. Osterwick." Weylyn answered to his warden as he was pulled back to his feed. "My father still thinks your skill and patience will rub off."

"Well, It is a father's right to dream... I suppose." Osterwick replied with a sigh. The two of them began to chuckle at the thought, as the teacher walked his pupil from their family chapel. It was a sad truth that most of their family doubted that it was actually going to happen, yet his father was a hopeful man.

The two of them passed through the chapel doors. The courtyard was a in decent repair, only a few stones had been dislodged by weeds and grasses. The cobblestone was a deep rich dark grey running from the color. It stood in great contrast to the pure virgin white stone of the shine. The city of Red Branch sat far away in the distance in the north. The city rested at the base of the O'Dunnslebi mountains. A forest of oak stood to the south, leading the river of his birth.

A pair of sweet-water breed horses awaited them, reins tied to about a post. They were great beasts neighed as they saw their masters. They were a fine and strong breed. One was a fine chestnut color and the other was wondrous ivory in color. The were those of their family. The one of ivory particularly was Weylyn's own, he had been present at its birth, help raise the horse, and named it Alph.

The young boy went to his own and rubbed its snout to calm the beast. "Good boy." Weylyn pushed himself up onto Alph, the destrier shaking under him and whining. He knew was not going to bucked off though, Alph was a loyal and strong breast. Alph would take him through caverns measureless to man, down to sunless seas, and gardens bright with sinuous hills if Weylyn had wanted.

"I brought her just for you. Come now before we commit some more sacrilege by accident." Osterwick smiled and spurred his own stead forward, Weylyn falling into step with Osterwick. The old man had once been a man at arms for his family, he had severed and even saved Weylyn's grandfather. The man had been bound to the Ushe family ever since. He quite enjoyed the life to compared to the toils of the average was not that Osterwick did not like the simple life, he just found the trappings of nobility to be a tad more satisfiyng.

The two of them began to trollop forward They dashed across the low grassland with a frantic speed. The salt of the sea to the east rolling over them and the sounds of water crashing against stone. Villages and the great standing stones dryad with their spiraling patterns darted past the two of them.

It was well over a few hours journey traveling at breakneck speed before they began to close in on Red Branch. The smell of the sea being replaced with the smell of greasy food and smoke of irons forges. "Do you think I will be a proper knight?" Weylyn asked as they slowed down. The numbers of peasants growing thicker as the approached the Red-Branch.

"I think you will be fine. You will be a halfway decent leader even if you had never listened to me. If you have listened to half of my teachings you will be a great lord." Osterwick told his charge with only a serious, but sincere tone to his voice despite the almost joking words. "You might not hold much in the same strengths of your brothers, but you're a fool when it comes to your spirit and I know you will do you best. I will haunt you if you don't". In this statement, he afforded himself a small smile.

Weylyn was to respond and yet he was not sure how much of that comment was a compliment to him and how much of that was insulting to him. Despite a slight misgiving he felt, for the most part, blessed to hear the words from his longtime mentor and friend. "Thank you Osterwick," Weylen replied which elicited only a curt nod in response. The two of them continued onward in silence for the last few minutes, listening to the chatter of the crowds and that crackling of flames. The great walls of the Red Branch towered above him, perfect white stone looked as if it was caught aflame with the setting sun. There was no more beautiful city in all of either Ulaid or perhaps, as some would debate, all of the world. The fact it was him debating that did not phase Weylyn

The great gate's shadow engulfed the two as they passed into the city and made toward the Urshe keep.

* * *

I thought to give a little bit about the world. I know this chapter did not add much story wise, but the early parts will play a role in the world. The two n's in clann is intentional for an old medieval way to say it.

Check out my other works on fiction press, particularly my main story: Trials of the Witch Hunter


	4. ch3: The shadow of the Seer

There was nothing about him, it was dark and peaceful. The chamber was perfect for his meditations, dark and quiet. The warp about him was stagnant, unable to push or sway with the chamber about him. Light died as it entered his chamber and the only sound was virulent clawing of daemons trying to claw through the protective runes of his chamber and the ship. The room had been constructed to his exact specifications. He had to say that these thralls were not as mindless as they appeared, but he did hope to return to his own kind soon enough.

The Fate Seer was not sure why he enjoyed the darkness. He was not borne of it, nor was there any singular event that lead to a love of the darkness. It had been a gradual movement throughout his life to this love of emptiness. The great abyss of nothing was wondrous, it was the perfect order. It was the order that all things, even those that dared call themselves gods, feared the abyss without life. All but him. He embraced that which was the end for it was the truest order. To think only the blessed Pariah could embrace the darkness, unfortunately they were were anathema to him.

Unfortunately, his darkness was to be disturbed soon. He could feel his host coming to him, for some misbegotten reason. He had to indulge the chaos lord, for now, as painful as that was..

Light broke through his dark chamber and shattered his peace. The sound the slopping and bloody flesh being turn apart by steel assaulted his ears, completely destroying the peace."Sorcerer." The air was like a thick miasma of color lights, colors both mundane and beautiful. The light was unnatural and born from the thoughts and feelings of life a sea of soul. There were colors that no mortal eyes had ever seen before. Every sight and shift of ethereal wind was some hand of the hideous intelligence that resided in this malicious realm. They seemed to reach out at him, knowing the gift that was in his blood, but as they drew closer to him they retracted in pain as if they were struck. The very essence of the warp recoiled from him. The touch of the void seemed to overwhelm it.

The Seer sighed at the sound of his host's voice. It pained the Seer to be in the presence of such barely nascent creatures. It annoyed him even more to be in the presence of one. "yes… Lord... Sylinious" He turned his eyes to young champion of the dark gods, his flesh and armor melding together into a sickly red mess, a single child of the Aurelian. One who had so much potential, if he was not willfully blind of the true fact of the universe. Even that could be forgiven with time and enlightenment, yet Sylinious could not listen, he cared more about his own power than the greater workings of fate. It was one thing that the seer could never forgive.

"My patients is wearing thin sorcerer. Why is is that you once again drag us from another campaign" It was the question that was being bellowed from the lips of all his misbegotten kind. If it was not for his followers the Seer doubted he could of kept the war band unified.

The Seer did have to step carefully though, to be soft and yet iron when needed, It was far from his pleasure that he needed their brutality, he needed the taint in their blood, for now at least. "I promise you, lord Sylinious, our last venture was coming to a close as it was. The others can finish off the last of the last of those dogs." The shadows slowly began to overtake the light of the warp and gently clung onto the word bearer's armor like smoke in the night. "While this journey shall be quick and you will find no shortage of blood to stain your armor. The forces of the Imperium shall swarm to meet you."

"You have continued to make promises and yet.." The word bearer began but was silenced as the Seer interrupted him. An unnatural force seemed to have reached his throat, hated flared in his eyes at the realization at the cause. It was curling around his armor, seeping into the tiniest cracks.

"I have always been true to my word. I can assure you, I have assured all necessities are in place. You will find plentiful sacrifices on this world and the Imperium will throw its best upon you. This is a world bound to a chapter of our loyalist kin" The Seer knew that is what Sylinious wanted, it was what his thralls wanted. The Seer could feel the fury boiling in the fool's blood. He could feel the hate towards himself and yet the zeal to slay the loyalists in the name of his precious gods. "You must simply be able to stand against them." The shadows falling away from Sylinious's gullet.

Those words seemed to hit a nerve with the chaos lord, where the Seer's actions had not. Sylinious thought to draw his blade and run through the Seer, but the burning ache screaming in his skull told him that these thoughts were not private and who lead to a quick death. "Hold your tongue sorcerer." Was all that the champion spat in retort The idea that his warriors were unable to handle the loyalist dogs, even suggested was enough for him to kill most. "It is we who are aiding you, who are too weak for your own schemes."

"And do I not give you all that you ask for so long as you are willing to assist me," The Seer chuckled at the chaos lord's final words. A slow smirk spread across his lips, their pale flesh was the only thing Sylinious could seen even with gene enhanced vision "I shall provide all that want for your campaigns to please your gods and soon shall know the power of their embrace more thoroughly than ever before."

The word bearer stood silent taking in his servant's words, or at least who Sylinious thought was his servant. The Seer was counting the seconds until he was free of this troglodyte. The precious sands of the hour glass were, grain by precious gain now, almost to their last. The infernal grind of Sylinious's breathing and the whispers of arcane powers about the air spoke to this fact. "Fine Sorcerer, we shall go on this little whim of yours, if you have lied to even the gods shall not protect you." Satisfied he had some victory in his threat, Sylinious turned to the halls and began his march to the bridge.

The Fate Seer awaited for some time, awaiting the lord to pass out of range. "Your time is running thin, for the long night comes for all." The Seer reached for the stave that rested next to him. His fingers slipping around its cold coils. He feel it's black serpents begin to wrap around his flesh. The figure in the darkness rose as he felt the ship lurch unnaturally beginning its dive into the warp. With any hope the daemons bound into its essence would make this journey quick. Now was the time to see his brothers, and he walked from his chamber.

The whispers and scream of daemons assaulted his senses as he moved through the ship, they were little more than annoyance but he wished for nothing more than the mind numbing vibrations of a more mundane craft.. Nevertheless, he walked possessed halls of his craft until him found the chamber he was looking for. A single metal door adorned with arcane wards rested before him, with a wave of his hand the door began to open.

The metal locks began to twist and turn. The runic symbols upon them flaring for but a moment as they fell out of alignment to reveal a chamber filled with a few dozen and lit by dim glow globes.. The occupants of the chamber turned to look at the figure that stood in the doorway. All of them stopped what they were doing, with the exception of a few who set about the work they knew their master's arrival entailed. Each of them were his finest, kept untainted by the markings of the void and the warding signals that left the room blank in the warp. An annoyance that was more than work.

As he stepped inside the door closed off behind him, steeling the room against even the more powerful of warp sights. "How are you my sons." The Fate Seer looked over his kindred. Their armor stripped bear of there original paints with only a single undamaged symbol upon them A chalice holding a flame, the symbol of their brother and master. They were beings in this horrid puppet show of a universe he knew the souls of, and trusted them. For they were his Seers.

"Ill of this company," called for one of the younglings, having joined the "How much longer must we work with these cretins." Arthis growled, though the Seer knew that it was more the distaste of being locked away from the warp for his own protection. Though serving with these heathens was a task none were appeased by.

"Not much longer my brothers. If I am right, the pawns are moving into their places now.. We must simply play our parts in the the game to come." The Seer made his way to the center of the room and the center table. He waved over the guardian of the text.

Brother Yuri, the eldest of the Seer's followers, rose up from his seat. A long cylindrical case hung against the back diagonally, it was as long as they were tall and covered in ancient protective runes from ages from before man touched the stars. It bore a single Iron Halo upon it, such was the importance of its containment. He set upon the table a capsule and began to mutter a small litany, "In the void fate will burn. In the dark we shall reforge it." He lifted from it an single tapestry and set it upon the table.

The Seer slowly began to unroll a banner upon the table, unrolling only a small section less it fall from the inadequate stand to hold its full . It was a crystalline silver and a rich deep green. It bore markings on it more than a thousand years old. It was a distant memory for some and it enraged fresh angers for others. Upon it though was described a prophecy, one that was old by mortal standards. Many of them had seen the days of its writing, others this would be their first time. The Fate Seer's finger began to trace the text with a steady head, reading over the words of a man once driven insane by them.

Slowly he began to read them aloud until he reached what he wanted. With every word it became more alike singing with a joy welling his his chest and eyes. The feelings that had filled him came clawing back from the edges of his mind, just as old visions attempted to burn their ways into his eyes.

His hand shook as it slide over the text he once wrote in a fit of madness and rapture. Memories of the time the great dark tried to consume him and yet he found salvation. All that was needed was the right pieces to fall into place, and when the husk of the Imperium falls away, when the gods are starved, they would live. He could feel the shadows wrapping around his skin once more and his simply shook them away. Blessed light filling his

A slow chuckle filled the air as his hand stopped over a single passage. "Blood bounds sons tread the path of old night, lost of purpose. Yet in black fire, abound an emerald sea, an abiding spark does rest, beacon for the undying host. For in ash all is reborn as day and night sever. To the heart, the broken jewel does call." He was raising his hands now and for a moment he thought to let his mind free into his visions.

"Master Oschea?" Yuri drug his master back from from the edge, gripping the Seer's arm beneath his robes. It was from the most precious anchor that he drug himself back from that locked in his mind.

The Seer took a moment to compose himself"Brothers with every second the time of ending draws upon us. The void surrounds us even as gods play their games and in the end we shall be the laughing ones. It is time let the first motions begin." He lifted one hand high and let a flame kindle in his hand. It was one of darkness that made the room seem bright in comparison, "In the void, fate will burn."

"And in the dark we shall forge it." The cabal began to chant as they stood in the the darkness.

* * *

Here is a little bit with one of the factions to play a role in this story and their wonderful leader.

Check out my other works on fiction press, particularly my main story: Trials of the Witch Hunter


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